


abnegation

by unholyconfessions (orphan_account)



Series: salt in the wounds [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon Rewrite, Episode Related, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Secret Relationship, Set During 5.13 - Codominance, Set During 5.15 - Amplification, Set During 5.16 - Lie Ability, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 03:54:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6103981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/unholyconfessions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If he can’t trust Theo on this, can he trust Theo at all?</p><p>[sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/5997637">counterbalance</a>.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	abnegation

**Author's Note:**

> I've gotta say I'm excited to post this! I wasn't sure what to do with the events between 5.13 and 5.16, but I'm pleased with how it came out. I hope y'all enjoy it as well.
> 
> Thank you for all the love, kudos, bookmarks, and comments so far. Keep 'em coming. 
> 
> Happy reading. :-)

The ride to Shiprock doesn’t do anything to ease the tension in Stiles’ shoulders. Scott tries because he’s Scott, and Stiles lies because that’s what he does best.

“You still not talking to Malia?”

Stiles keeps his heartbeat in check, breathes in and out through his nose and hopes Scott’s senses aren’t as focused on him as they are on Malia. 

“Uh, she’s not talking to me,” Stiles says, after a moment. Between the Beast and Theo, she’s the last thing on his mind. Scott glances at him, curious, and he averts his eyes, gestures vaguely with a hand. “Or anyone, I guess.”

Theo’s touch is still warm on his skin, a reminder of just how thin is the line that Stiles is walking on, and he’s aware of the consequences if he were to step on the wrong side of it. Still, he lies; he omits, stretches the truth, confesses to a guilt he doesn’t feel even though Scott doesn’t ask him to.

It’s easier to lie when you can get away with it.

*

“Have fun on your little road trip?” asks Theo as he slams Stiles against his bedroom door, his fingers tugging on Stiles’ belt to work it open.

Stiles blows out a weak laugh, angles his head back when Theo’s mouth meets the curve of his neck, doesn’t bother with a response. 

Theo mimics his laugh with added irony, pulls away far enough that Stiles can see the smirk on his lips as he reaches inside Stiles’ boxers. Stiles tugs at Theo’s leather jacket and brings him close enough that he tastes Theo’s lips as he wets his.

Hands claw at clothes, teeth nip at skin, and not another word of substance is exchanged. Stiles is fine with this, fine with hearing only his heart pounding in his head and Theo’s erratic breathing in his ears. 

He doesn’t have to pretend, this way. He can breathe out _fuck_ and _Theo_ and _more_ and not care about the consequences until they’re back into the real world. He doesn’t have to guess if Theo’s telling the truth or not because he can feel it, can hear it when he touches Theo just right and Theo hisses out his name like it belonged to him right from the start.

Everything else doesn’t matter until after they come, muffled obscenities breaking the silence as they lie spent on Stiles’ bed.

Stiles stares at the ceiling, unmoving, Theo beside him, says, “Have you talked to Malia?”

He doesn’t need to be a werewolf to catch the slight hitch in Theo’s breath. It wouldn’t surprise him to know Theo’s behind Malia’s sudden bloodthirst.

Stiles turns his head to look at Theo. Theo opens his mouth then stops, stares at Stiles as if scanning Stiles’ heartbeat for something, eyes narrowed.

Stiles sighs when the answer doesn’t come, looks away and back. “Scott thinks she’s going to kill her mother.”

Theo sets his jaw. “She is.”

“Are you helping her?”

“Should I?”

“Theo.”

“I’m using her,” Theo says, looks at Stiles like he’s waiting for a reaction. _But not like this,_ goes unsaid.

Theo narrows his eyes again, glances at Stiles’ mouth and back up as if giving Stiles enough time to retreat back into plausible deniability if he wants.

Instead, Stiles licks his lips and nods, almost hears the sound of Theo’s satisfied smirk in the half-light.

*

In the following couple of days, Theo doesn’t come over, unannounced or otherwise, and Stiles is about to spiral into withdrawal when Theo grabs him by the arm after class and he finds himself in the locker room, Theo’s mouth on his.

“I need you to get me in the closed unit at Eichen,” Stiles says once Theo’s moved on from his mouth to his earlobe, voice breaking. He shoves at Theo’s shoulders. “Theo.” Theo growls, eyes glowing amber in the dark, and Stiles ignores the heat that pools low in his stomach, clears his throat. “You walk right past the mountain ash. Scott can’t.” 

Theo leans back against the opposite wall. “I’m just going to walk in there and no one’s going to bat an eye,” he says. Stiles is almost affronted by his level of sarcasm.

“Not if you paralyze them first,” Stiles says. “It’s simple, okay? We get into Eichen, we get into the closed unit, we get Lydia, get out.”

Theo takes one, two steps forward and Stiles braces himself for another kiss, but Theo reaches for the door instead.

Stiles grabs his wrist before he can open it. “Theo, I need this.”

Stiles can see the bob of Theo’s throat in the faint light, the flicker of something in Theo’s eyes as he glances at where Stiles’ fingers meet his wrist.

“Please.”

Theo draws his arm back. Stiles sucks in a breath.

“You’re gonna have to convince Scott.”

Stiles’ shoulders fall and he nods, mutters, “I have an idea.”

*

“My dad's got the lab working on the shoe prints, but we're both kind of mystified about how giant clawed werewolf feet turn back into a pair of sneakers,” Stiles says as he and Scott are leaving the library, mentally counting his steps until they reach Theo.

“Argent said it wouldn't be like anything we've ever seen before.”

Six. Five.

“Did he say it was going to defy the laws of physics?”

Three. Two. One.

Theo looks at him before he looks at Scott. Stiles swallows past the dryness in his mouth as Scott says, “What are you doing here?”

Theo raises his eyebrows. “I still need to graduate.”

“No, what you need is to be beaten. Severely,” Stiles says, wonders if he’s overacting as he adds, “with a lead pipe, wrapped in barbed wire.”

There’s a little twitch on the corner of Theo’s mouth as he looks down at his feet, like he wants to laugh, but it’s gone the moment he raises his gaze. “Okay. I admit that mistakes were made.”

“Murders.” Stiles takes a step forward. “Some murders were made.”

Theo leafs through the book he’s holding and fuck, Stiles has to look away before he kisses that smug look right off Theo’s face.

“You know how the Soviets helped us win World War II? They knew how to make it through a Russian winter,” Theo says, eyes fixed on Scott this time.

The hell is Theo doing?

“That it?” Stiles throws his hands in the air, ready to abort the mission before Theo blows it. “Okay. Thank you, Theo. Very informative.”

Before he can leave, Theo slides back on track, “If you're planning to break Lydia out of Eichen House, you still need to get past the mountain ash. I can make it through. You can’t, Scott.”

At this point, Theo is doing a better job of turning Stiles on than convincing Scott. That’s not how this plan was supposed to go, at all. 

If Scott so much as senses anything… 

Stiles doesn’t even want to think about it.

*

_he didn’t buy it._

Stiles stares at the text for a moment, chews on the inside of his cheek until the dull metallic taste hits his tongue.

 _doesn’t matter. still need you,_ he texts back, hides the phone into his back pocket the moment Scott steps into the room, Liam and Parrish in tow.

He reciprocates the small nod Scott gives him, takes one look at Liam before counting to three and sliding into the body bag.

*

From the schizophrenic kid to the missing card reader, having Scott kick Liam’s ass, being unable to get Lydia out of her restraints, and Parrish showing up, Stiles can say that the plan is working _exactly_ like it shouldn’t.

He can hear more than he can see from his hiding spot, but between Theo taking Lydia as leverage against Parrish and Valack drilling a hole in Theo’s thigh, he doesn’t know if he should be angry at Theo for being a liar, or being stupid.

Valack grabs Lydia the first chance he gets—as Parrish is doing a thorough job of beating Donovan and the rest of Theo’s undead pack—but Stiles puts himself between him and the door.

Before he thinks about doing anything, Corey comes flying in their direction in a literal ball of flames and hits Stiles square in the chest, knocking the wind out of him as they fall to the ground. It gives Valack just enough time to take Lydia and disappear.

Stiles is too late as he gets to the door, hands trembling as he screams after Lydia, palms hitting metal until it hurts.

He can barely look at Theo when Theo kicks the door down, not trusting himself not to lunge at Theo’s throat after his little stunt. He doesn’t stop Theo from following him, but doesn’t wait for him as he makes his way out.

“Stiles!” Theo calls after him, and the tone of Theo’s voice makes him stop to catch his breath. “I’ve got her scent.”

Stiles turns to look at him and steps forward, presses his chest to Theo’s. “Hurting her wasn’t the plan!”

“Parrish was going to kill us,” Theo says, shoves at Stiles’ shoulder. “I had to improvise. I don’t see how me being dead would help your case.”

Stiles takes a step back, blinks away tears of anger, shakes his head.

“Stiles, you need to trust me.” Theo reaches for him but he dodges it, clenches his teeth so hard his jaw snaps. Theo draws his hand back, eyebrows knitted. “Please.”

Stiles doesn’t utter a word but lets Theo lead him down into the tunnels, despite his brain’s objections. 

If he can’t trust Theo on this, can he trust Theo at all? Theo’s a coldblooded killer; he doesn’t care about anyone other than himself. Not even his own sister. 

Stiles probably, more than likely, isn’t an exception.

“I thought you had her scent,” Stiles accuses after they’ve walked an entire minute in circles.

“I lost it.”

“So find it again!”

“What do you smell down here, Stiles?”

“Chemicals and fecal matter.” Stiles gives a shrug. “Although I’m pretty sure the fecal matter’s you.”

Theo glances at him and looks disappointed, maybe angry—it doesn’t matter at this point. “I smell it too. It’s all that I can smell, which is why I’m trying something else, so can you please shut up and let me concentrate?”

“Alright, I’m gonna find her,” Stiles says.

He brushes past Theo but doesn’t get far before Theo’s hand finds his arm.

“You know you won’t, Stiles.” Theo’s grip is just one click this side of painful. Stiles winces but doesn’t move. “You’re gonna have to trust me.”

“Trust you?” Stiles fires back, ignores the hurt in Theo’s eyes. “The guy who murdered his own sister when he was _nine_.”

“I was nine years old. I—I also believed that a guy in a red suit came down the chimney to deliver presents,” Theo says, hand moving from Stiles’ forearm to his bicep, as if to hold him in place. Stiles never thought he’d see Theo stutter. “So, when three people in leather masks showed up and—and said she wanted me to have her heart, I believed them too.”

“So, together you gutted and killed her. It’s a beautiful story.” Stiles wishes he could laugh. “I can’t trust you when you pull shit like this. You could’ve _killed_ Lydia.”

“I would’ve killed her in a heartbeat if it meant Parrish wouldn’t kill _you_.” Stiles flinches at Theo’s tone, at the inhuman rage in Theo’s eyes. Theo loosens his grip on him, stumbles back. “You might not trust me,” Theo says after a beat, stepping into Stiles’ personal space again, “but you can trust _this_.”

Theo reaches for him and tugs him close, kisses him. 

Stiles doesn’t blink, doesn’t breathe, doesn’t move until the instinct to push Theo away kicks in—and even then, he ignores it. Has to, when Theo’s hands are shaking this badly, heartbeat so loud Stiles can hear the blood pumping in his veins.

Theo’s the one who pulls away, forehead resting on Stiles' as they catch their breath. 

Stiles nods once, waits until his thoughts fall back into place, and mutters, “Okay.”


End file.
